Sunday, November 8, 2009

to the girls on the block, harlem 1989
u look through me
like u don't know me

from the roots of my hair
to the heels of my shoes
u assess my
and count my charms
u might stare
u don't recognize me

we sit, together
on the bus
or crowd together,
on the subway
or stand on the corner
each in the shadow of the other

u think
we are worlds
apart as though

our breath could
mix in conversation
the same blood
could not
mingle in our veins

my sister
i wish
u could see me.

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